


Hubris (Thermidor Blues)

by major_general



Category: RPF - The French Revolution
Genre: Gen, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:41:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/major_general/pseuds/major_general
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'd like to thank djinnj, as always, for the beta and assurance that some artistic license is acceptable. Thanks as well to the authors of the four books I read to refresh my history, particularly Ruth Scurr, and to the makers of the documentary that aired on History International one Sunday morning a month ago without whom this might have been a Scarlet Pimpernel/A Tale of Two Cities fic.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Hubris (Thermidor Blues)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tornyourdress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tornyourdress/gifts).



> I'd like to thank djinnj, as always, for the beta and assurance that some artistic license is acceptable. Thanks as well to the authors of the four books I read to refresh my history, particularly Ruth Scurr, and to the makers of the documentary that aired on History International one Sunday morning a month ago without whom this might have been a Scarlet Pimpernel/A Tale of Two Cities fic.

Robespierre always knew what was coming for him. In his boyhood dreams he saw it, the great wooden Beast with the metal tooth that clamped down upon his neck. He would wake up from nightmares, comforted by his sister. It was not the harmless dream she assured him it was. He knew. He knew that it would come for him one day and that he must do something to keep it away.

_The pain in his jaw was too much to bear._

It was in Arras that he first felt the impending doom. A man was guilty of murder and for that the law said he should die. Robespierre argued with Charlotte over it, yet he could not tell his sister that he knew any death would feed the Beast that would one day claim him, even if She did not yet stand waiting. He thought he should resign, move to the middle of nowhere and become a farmer--but that was not to be. Instead, he found himself arguing for equality in sentencing and, as he did, he saw in his mind's eye the blade rushing towards him.

_The crowds cheered as they walked to the platform. Women with their knitting smiled cruel, bloodthirsty smiles. These people were hers. They belonged to the vengeful Goddess they surrounded who could not be appeased._

He cared about what was right, what was fair. He wanted a say in how his country was run. He wanted equality, and so he demonstrated and wrote pamphlets. Then he somehow found himself representing the Third Estate in Versailles where he met people with ideas like his own. They would drink coffee, and sometimes other things, as they discussed what was right, what was just. Robespierre felt like something good was coming, but that it would come with a price he was not sure he wanted to pay. And there was Camille, willing to shed his blood so that France could be the new Sparta; Robespierre would rather it be Athens, or something even better the likes of which the world had never seen. The army of the people rose up so quickly and took the Bastille. There was no de Sade to free, but there was ghastly ecstasy enough. The chomping grew nearer. Even as the premier commis was sequestered inside the Tuileries, the crowd grew louder and Robespierre looked on with hope and dread--hope for the new nation they were sure to build and dread for the fate he hoped to escape.

_There were children playing executioner in the streets, singing songs about dead tyrants. They laughed and pointed at him. They got the joke that their screaming mothers did not._

As the premier commis and his supporters lost power, Robespierre rose. People listened to him and his compatriots. They wanted him to succeed. Then Dr. Guillotin started them all talking. He asked the people to pass a law, one that said all condemned to die would be killed in the same humane way. After the horrors the country had seen, it seemed the right thing to do. No one should be drawn and quartered. No one should even be hung. No one should have to suffer. The doctor insisted that the new method would be humane and so Robespierre agreed. The assembly passed the law and one form or corporal punishment was all France had. Robespierre was glad, proud even, until he saw it, glimmering in the sunlight, the instrument of his demise.

_The people condemned him. They wanted him fed to the beast. St. Just held his hand as they listened to the mob._

When Marat was acquitted, Robespierre thought it was possible to escape fate. When Marat was murdered, Robespierre feared it was not, but he did not give up hope. So when it came to it, he decided that feeding other people to Madame Guillotine would quench the fearsome Lady's need for blood. If she got enough, she might not need his. She had the king and queen's before Marat's. There seemed no better sacrifice for a goddess than a fat king and his wife. But she wanted more. And she could get them without biting them herself. Marat proved that. So more people, those who kept the food away from the people would have to die.

_He wondered if the woman Tussaud would make his mask as she had for some of those who had gone to the platform before him. He'd rather she made him alive and powerful than dead with his jaw hanging off._

The crowd, her sycophants, was calling for blood. It needed someone and Danton would have to be it. He had been so bold as to accuse Robespierre's Terror of killing the innocent, but Robespierre knew there were none. How could there be innocents? Danton suspected, he thought. Danton guessed that Robespierre only wanted to appease the goddess that stood in La Place so that she would look kindly upon him. And so, Danton and his friends were arrested and Robespierre had his pet, St. Just, condemn them. St Just, as much an actor as his cousin, spoke Robespierre's words as his hand proclaimed their fate. A deputy tried to give Danton a chance to defend himself but Robespierre would not hear of it. The words he spoke were as much for Her as for the Convention. "For they have tried to frighten me as well: they wanted me to think that if Danton were in danger, the menace would reach me too. What are dangers to me? My life belongs to my country, my heart is free of fear, and if I died it would be without reproach and ignominy."

_The stones in La Place de la Révolution were stained with the blood of people whom he sent to die. His blood would join theirs, a last act for equality from Robespierre._

Of course, he could not live up to the words that he spoke. Though he had escaped assassination, he could not escape this. He tried. He told them that words can be twisted, that pain is necessary, that tyrants must be fought, that false friends look like true friends. He recounted how blame had been given to him for everything. He called out to the Supreme Being who he hoped was stronger than the Goddess who called for him. He told them he was meant to fight crime, not control it. He knew the name Robespierre was synonymous with the Revolution in the minds of many and he asked them to realize that this was not the case. But it would do no good, the Convention condemned him. The Tribunal condemned him. He knew they were coming for him and he had to do something. He would not die that way. He would not accept that death. He had one last hope of escaping it. He sat at his desk and pointed the pistol Lebas had given him at his face. A shattered jaw was all he got. She still waited for him. St. Just sat by him and stroked his hand but Robespierre would not be soothed.

_The executioner pulled the bandage from his face and Robespierre could not contain his screams. The pain was excruciating, but it faded as he was laid face up on the bed. He looked up at her, his Goddess, and saw the death that had always been his._

  



End file.
